Over-Stimulation
by xSeshatx
Summary: {Oneshot} When Matt gets over-stimulated, it's hard for him to 'see'. The god-awful headache he has wasn't helping


The day was without a doubt going to be shit. Matt felt it immediately when he woke up. 'It' being the headache, of course. Headaches were bad enough but waking up with one was awful and uncalled for. Borderline unfair, really, with how much good he was trying to do for his city. But, naturally, the world decided it was a good time to punish him, probably for having his abilities, and so he had to suffer through a headache. Migraine would be more like it, though, considering that any movement of his useless eyes or head would make his stomach turn and - yeah, he needed to get out of bed before he started puking everywhere. If he puked all over his bed he knew the chances of him cleaning it were very slim. He'd rather just go buy new beading.

With the headache being as intense as it was, he couldn't focus enough to sense the room. He used a lot of concentration for his abilities and concentration was something he was seriously lacking at the moment. It was hard to concentrate because concentrating hurt and pain in his head was causing pain in his stomach and, as mentioned only moments ago, he was not trying to puke all over his bed. So his concentration was set on that and nothing more. He didn't need to concentrate to navigate his apartment. He could navigate his apartment deaf and blind if he needed to. There was no way he was going to risk making his headache worse by allowing himself to hear the vibrations in the air and - just no thank you.

The shower didn't help, the smell of coffee had him gagging, and if he even thought about food then the gagging would turn into actual vomitting. So his morning was only getting better and better each passing second. He could smell, intensely, his blood from a few nights ago that had yet to die away. No matter how hard he scrubbed at the blood it always took a few days to fade into the background. The smell of blood was only making him dizzy. The desire to take an off day from work was almost too strong to resist but he managed. Grabbing his hated cane that would actually do more good now than ever, he hoped he managed to look healthy and happy before he took off for his office.

He ran into three different people on the way to work. Three. As in it happened more than one. It happened more than twice. It happened three times. Matt never ran into people. He could hear them and step out of the way, normally. But he, Daredevil, ran into three different people on his short walk to work. His day really sucked. He had fallen one of those three times and he had to do his best to convince the young woman that he was fine and it had most definitely been his fault. He was supposed to be swinging his cane around but his stupid brain forgot. His fault entirely. He could feel the bruise forming on his arm from where he ran into a parking meter and he may or may not have twisted in ankle by stepping in a little dent on the ground.

It was a miracle that he made it all the way to the office. He was really considering the fact that maybe he was dying. By the time he walked inside, he already had his pre-funeral eulogy that he would read for Foggy and Karen. He had a casket picked out, a church, and a cemetary. He had edited his will mentally and was ready to leave his couch to Foggy purely out of spite because that man hated his couch. And he'd leave all his beer to Karen to spite Foggy even more because he would much prefer the beer. No, he was not being dramatic. His head was killing him and he would gladly welcome death to get it to end. It was bad enough being blind. It was worse when he forgot how to be blind without the assistance of his super advanced senses.

"Good morning," he greeted, keeping his tone as even as he could with his little not-smile on his face. He knew Karen was there because, really, when wasn't she, but he couldn't tell if Foggy was in yet or not. If he was, Matt couldn't tell if he was in the same room as them or not. He couldn't hear the heartbeat but he also couldn't hear Karen's or his own. Or maybe he could hear it all but wasn't processing. He didn't want to think about what was going on. His head hurt too badly.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing she asked and it wasn't all that uncommon. With his nightly activities, he came in often with bruises. She was growing increasingly concerned each day. If he had to hear her suggestion one more time of getting a dog, he may go out and get one just to leave it at her door and make her tend to the animal. Out of spite (weren't Catholic's supposed to be free of spite or something like that?). He reached up to rub his forehead where he knew he had a scrape from when he fell. And that part of his forehead was also one of the major sources of the headache, and that was before the fall.

"Just a little accident," he said, keeping up his not-smile and calm voice. He had been told his voice was a soothing voice and he more than once had used it to his advantage. If he could portray calamity and serenity then maybe others would follow suit. It worked more often than not, especially on women and children. He learned that from his Daredevil activities and he tried not to let it bother him so much that there were many women and children to be rescued throughout his city. "I'm fine, though. I've been a little clumsy this morning."

"You really should consider the-"

"I think if you suggest the dog one more time, Matt may just lose his mind," Foggy cut in, having apparently been in the room during that time. "Like, I'm talking worse than in college. He was up all night studying for an exam and, I don't know what happened, but one second he was walking with me on our way to class for the test and the next-"

"We don't have to discuss this," Matt's even voice cut in. Somebody had made a move to trip Foggy and, of course, Foggy hadn't noticed it whereas Matt sensed it. So, like the good and slightly overprotective friend he was, he reached out with his stick to trip the guy instead. Then he was accused of doing so on purpose, denied it adamently, and then ended up fighting the guy anyways. Foggy dragged him away before any serious damage to either opponent could be done but it was something that embarrassed Matt to no end so he preferred when Foggy didn't talk about it. Matt didn't particularly enjoy losing control of himself and silently thanked Foggy every now and again for not letting him go all out on him.

Matt used his cane on his way to the office. He rarely used his cane on the way to his office because he knew the exact amount of steps it took to get there, but he couldn't trust himself not to trip. He could feel eyes on him even if he couldn't see or sense them but he ignored them as he tried to focus on each step he took. He made it into the office and was on his way to his desk when his foot caught on the leg of the terribly placed furniture and he ended up moving to catch himself before he could hit the ground. Foggy was in the room in an instant. "You okay, man?" he asked, carefree voice gone and a more serious tone took it's place. "You seem more...off balanced today."

No words were said until he was safely planted in his seat. Talking, moving, and thinking all at once were obviously doing no good for him. "Like I said," he said, speaking slowly with more of a frown than a not-smile, "I've been a little on the clumsy side as of this morning."

"Okay, just...take it easy, okay?" Foggy sounded unsure and Matt was sure if he had been listening to his heart beat it would be unnormally fast.

"As always, buddy." The neutral not-smile returned to his face more for Foggy's sake than his own. Matt knew just how badly Foggy must have been freaking out. The thoughts running through the poor guy's head were undoubtedly very loud; chaotic to the point that it only made Matt's head hurt worse even if he wasn't the one thinking them. Out of all the years the two had been friends, Matt had never let Foggy see him in any state similar to the one he had been in. He didn't let Foggy see him if he wasn't able to sense anything around him. He never faltered around him, didn't trip, and used his cane when expected. But he also navigated without his cane just to show that he wasn't just a charity case. Foggy knew him well enough to know that Matt may had been blind but he could function just as well as everybody else.

A few hours of self-pity later, Matt decided he should probably get to work. That wasn't to say that he hadn't been working. He had. He was working alone in his office, doing as much research for their current case as he could. Normally, during the research portion of their process, he'd be sitting with Foggy (and sometimes Karen) to connect the dots between everybody. That had sounded like too much stimulation and he felt that talking would only make it more likely to throw up because that possibility was not out the window yet. His migraine was only getting worse and he wanted to lay his head down to sleep but that wasn't an option. He had a job to do and he was going to get it done. It was not a time for slacking. He considered taking a night off from being Daredevil but that was as much his job as the lawyer part of him. So he'd have to stick it through until the early hours of morning. He could make it that long to sleep.

He tried not to let out too deep of a sigh as he got up. He grabbed his cane as well as everything else he needed before walking slowly and carefully to the door. Of course, he had to stop for a moment and lean against the wall as his head made everything he could not see fuzzy. His head felt like it was swimming and even the tunnel of fire seemed to be swaying. The sigh Matt let out now was as heavy a sigh as anybody could manage as he pushed himself up straight and tried to walk like normal. It was hard to navigate his cane and hold his computer and other devices but he managed well enough.

When Matt joined their little meeting area, he could hear the conversation between Karen and Foggy coming to an end. Curious, he risked concentrating too hard on feeling their body's reactions to him approaching. Neither of their heartbeats sounded apprehensive or worried. They were just having casual conversation. Or maybe a serious conversation that had nothing to do with Matt. "Decide to join us to actually get to work?" Foggy asked, his voice teasing. The transition from super hearing to normal hearing made his head throb even harder so he basically plopped into a chair.

"You need me out here," he said, trying his best to smirk and bring on some friendly banter. He wanted Foggy to take the bait and ask him why so the two could go back and forth over which one of them were better lawyers. It was also in good faith.

"Matt, do you even realize how pale you are?" Karen's voice broke in before Foggy had the chance to respond.

Never one to pass up the opportunity, Matt relaxed his face to one of no emotion and said, "I seem to have misplaced my mirror."

Surprisingly, and unfortunately for Matt, Foggy didn't back him up on his jokes that were helping him avoid the confrontation that was brewing. He heard someone - Foggy, from the sound of it - get up and approach him. Any other time he'd be able to sense when someone was going to touch him but this time got him by surprise and he flinched in surprise. It was a 'you-startled-me' flinch as opposed to a 'I-thought-you-were-gonna-hurt-me' flinch so he simply gave Foggy a sorry smile because Foggy didn't need to think he was scared of them. "You have a fever," he remarked.

"It's quite warm in the office today," Matt mused, trying to shift the blame of his fever from his stupid body who decided to get sick to the office. Before either of them could start in on him, he stood up even though he just sat down moments before. The motion obviously only ticked his body off because he could feel his blood rushing around his body as if it was confused on where to go. Pick a position, buddy, his body was screaming. Well, his head was screaming it. The pressure in his head intensified. But he only smiled instead of portraying any of the pain. "I believe I left my water in the office. Excuse me while I go grab it." He had no water in his office but he needed a minute to calm his raging stomach. Better to settle the nausea in private just in case he failed.

Walking to his office was straightforward enough. He knew the general way and his cane was a big help. He had slid inside, went to shut the door, and immediately tripped. He didn't trip on anything, to be clear. He tripped over his own two feet. Stupidly, Matt reached out his hands to grab onto something to avoid the inevitable fall but all he did was stab the palm of his hand on the corner of his desk. "Shit!" he cursed, not loud enough to be yelling but also not soft enough to go unnoticed by Karen or Foggy only a few feet away. Angrily, he threw his cane. He heard it hit the wall somewhere but he didn't want to hurt himself trying to figure out the place exactly.

Karen was the first one in the room, being more of a mother hen than Foggy (and Foggy could be a mother hen when he wanted to). "Oh my god, Matt, are you okay?" she asked, kneeling down beside him and looking him over for injuries.

"Watch the blasphemy," Foggy muttered, trying for humor because comfort wasn't exactly his strong suit. He knew about Daredevil and he didn't even want to think about what could have happened to make Matt so wobbily. Matt didn't need his cane. Didn't usually pretend to when in the office even if Karen hadn't known he didn't need it. He never tripped over anything and when he did he was able to catch himself surprisingly well. Worried didn't even begin to cover what Foggy was feeling.

"Stupid cane," Matt muttered. He was embarrassed and now his head hurt worse. He didn't remember hitting his head but he was pretty sure he had on the wall when he fell. Well, after he fell. When he had sat up and leaned against the wall he was fairly certain his head connected to it. Ouch. His stomach was rolling and he was sweating and he was shaking and - "Trash can. Please."

Foggy understood what was happening seconds before Karen had. After all, he had seen plenty of hangovers, and while he knew this wasn't a hangover he also knew the look on Matt's face moments before he threw up. His stoic face always fell and even with his glasses on Foggy could clearly see pain and maybe even a little fear. Seeing that Matt was about to lose everything in his stomach, Foggy listened to the command and grabbed the trash can. He had placed it in front of Matt, guided his hands so he could feel the edge of the can, and then pulled Karen back so Matt could have a tiny bit of privacy. "We're nowhere near you, buddy. Go ahead," Foggy said. He knew Matt would hold it in as long as physically possible if anybody was too close. But Foggy knew that once he started, he couldn't stop. So when Matt started violently throwing up, he released Karen and the two went to either side of him to rub his back.

"You're okay," Karen was whispering, speaking directly into his ears. "Just breathe through it. It'll be over soon."

One of Matt's hands let go of the trash can and searched desperately for something, and Foggy just knew. He grabbed Matt's hand and held it tightly in his own. "Right here, buddy."

The vomitting ended after a short while and Foggy set the trash can aside. Matt rested his head (much more gently this time) against the wall and let out a little groan by accident. "Fuck," he grumbled under his voice, sounding more distressed than Karen's ever heard, even worse than when he cried that time in the office. Foggy had, honestly, heard worse. Like when the two argued when Matt's alterego was discovered by Foggy. But that didn't mean it didn't upset him all the same. Matt had been there for Foggy through everything. When he cried and when his grandmother died and when he stressed to the point he could barely breath. Matt had always been there but he didn't often let Foggy be there for him. He was very independent as if needing help would only highlight his disability, even if the help he needed had nothing to do with his blindness.

"You better now, Matty?" Foggy asked, unsure if Matt would be honest and say no or brush it off and say yes. He didn't know which was better. Because if he was honest then that just highlighted how bad it was and if he lied then he wasn't letting them in.

Spoiler: it was the former.

"I can't stand it," he said, his voice a little too hysterical for someone who had only minutes before been trying to goat Foggy into a friendly argument. "Headaches are the - they're the worst." He turned his head towards where Foggy was, effectively letting Foggy know that it had to do a lot with his extremely heightened senses and less to do with his blindness. Matt heard Karen take a breath like she always did before going on a long rant about something (she was probably gonna tell Matt he should take it easy and speak up if something was bothering him) so he cut her off before she could. "I'm gonna head home for the day, okay?"

"No problem," Karen said immediately, dropping her little speech. "Don't worry about grabbing your things. I'll bring everything back in here for you. No work until tomorrow, you hear me?"

Matt forced a little laugh from his throat. "Wouldn't dream of working from home."

"C'mon, buddy, I'll take you home," Foggy said, already throwing an arm around Matt's waist and pulling him up. Karen retrieved his cane, pressing it firmly into Matt's hand, before resting her hand on the side of his face momentarily.

"Get some rest," she had said before the two left.

Matt didn't usually need Foggy to guide him. Before Foggy knew about Daredevil, he would always offer his arm to Matt as if it was a normal part of life. After finding out, he had been more hesitant about enabling Matt to lying about his disability. It had hurt Matt terribly but, in the end, he finally got it through to his friend that he really was blind and, while he didn't particularly need a guide, he always felt more comfortable. He didn't want to let all the sensations from his senses in all the time because, when he did, it gave him a headache very similar to the one he had at that moment. He also, more hesitantly, admitted that he felt safe knowing that Foggy was watching out for him. Still, he wouldn't always take his arm after the secret was out and Foggy wouldn't always offer it. The anger and betrayal put aside, it was sometimes easier for Matt to navigate himself. At that moment, however, Matt didn't think he'd make it down the street without Foggy's arm there for him to hold on to.

To add onto the embarrassment of the day, Matt had to lean against Foggy on their way up the stairs. His headache, despite throwing up, was only getting worse. He'd take being stabbed any day over a migraine from the over-stimulation. Matt pressed his keys into Foggy's hands because he didn't think he'd ever find the keyhole without him. Once inside, he was lowered to the couch. "Okay," Foggy said, his voice knowingly quiet as if he understood part of the issue. "I need you to tell me what's going on. I can't help you if you don't. You're never like this. Did you get hurt last night?"

Matt wanted to shake his head and almost made the mistake of doing so. "No, I didn't get hurt," he answered. "You know how my senses compensate for my lack of sight? Well, sometimes they overcompensate. It throws everything off. My balance, my hearing. Everything."

"You've..." The hesitation was clear. "You've delt with this before?"

"I don't like you seeing this kind of stuff, buddy," Matt answered simply.

"I thought we promised no more secrets," he said, his voice quieter. Sadder. Betrayed.

Sight was something he learned to live without. Sure, he missed seeing things. He'd love to look up at the stars again or see colors other than red. He never got the chance to see what Foggy looked like, or Claire or Karen. He didn't long for it often because he knew what he got was probably better than sight, but sometimes he wished he had it. Like in that moment there. He wanted to be able to look Foggy in the eyes and have Foggy look back, knowing there wasn't a sightless person in front of him. He wanted to swear to Foggy that he'd never hurt him like that again. He knew it was hard to gain back that trust but he also knew he wasn't in the wrong for keeping his secrets from him. Instead of saying any of that, Matt forced his face to seem relaxed. "I wasn't intending to keep this a secret, at least not the kind of secret you may be considering," he said. His voice sounded normal and it physically hurt him not to be curled up and in pain and probably crying. "I don't want to appear less in front of you."

"What does that even mean, Matt?" he asked, frustration evident. Matt didn't need to be able to hear his heartbeat to know it was way too fast.

"I'm blind," he said, blunt as always. "Before, I didn't want you to think I needed any special attention. I didn't want you to see me and worry if I was over-stimulated or not. Now, after you finding out about everything, I just..." Now it was his turn to hesitate.

"You just what?"

He wanted to shrug it off, act like he wasn't about to say anything, but he knew it was too late. He had already opened his mouth and there was no going back. He was feeling too sick to get into his feelings as much as he was about to. He worried tears may be involved eventually if he didn't get that conversation over as soon as possible. "I didn't want to give you more reasons to be angry with me. I couldn't fathom a guess of how you may react. You could have thought I was trying to force back what we had before you found out or you coud have thought that I wasn't fit to be what I am at night. You already don't approve." There were the tears he was worried about. "When you walked out that night, I was terrified you weren't going to come back. You learned enough that night. I didn't want you to deal with anymore. This-" He gestured down at himself "-is my problem. My burden. I've had to deal with this by myself ever since it happened. You shouldn't have to be dragged into it."

There was no telling how Foggy would react after hearing what Matt had to say. He was worried, sitting too tense for how badly he ached. He couldn't even tell if Foggy was still there. He was thoroughly and properly blind for the time being and he hated it. He couldn't remember how he had managed to do so when he first became blind. It was a challenge and it only made him want to panic. He was getting close to that point when he heard Foggy stand up. The tears continued more heavily, though silently, as he thought that Foggy was going to walk out on him again. But then he felt his friend sit down beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulders. "This secret-" his voice was shaking as if he was crying, too "-was not an okay secret to keep. Not for my sake but for yours. You don't have to deal with all of these things alone, Matt. You keep all your pain and struggling to yourself. You don't have to. You could let me in. You're my best friend, Matty. I'm never going to throw that out the window."

Matt let himself be held by Foggy, crying more openly. He had always been a crier when he was sick. It was an embarrassing fact about himself. When he was sick he was easier to make cry. The conversation was an emotional one because he hated opening up more than he had to. Add that onto the fact that he honestly felt like he had quite literally crawled from the death then it was only obvious that the waterworks would start and be unable to stop. "I feel awful," he admitted.

"Do you think you're going to throw up again?"

"I think I might."

Foggy stayed with him the rest of the day, basically mothering him the entire time. He convinced Matt to take a shower with the temperature cooler rather than warmer. He also made some light food for Matt to eat, made him drink lots and lots of water, and never let his voice raise beyond a loud whisper. It was nice, not having to look after himself for a change. He knew his embarrassment would only grow the next day but, for now, he could let it happen. Because Foggy wasn't going anywhere, and if Foggy wasn't going anywhere then neither was Matt. And dealing with his over-stimulation by himself just sucked.


End file.
